Because as a person, I understand it perfectly.
But as a rural house, as a self-employed, as a worker, as the one who gives EVERYTHING to make his project work… I don’t understand anything.

💣 There is a brutal, real, deep crisis…
But yes: silenced.
Nobody talks about it. It does not appear on the news. There are no graphs or round tables or ministers recognizing that everything is going down the drain.

But it is there. You can feel it. It is drowning us.

💔 July has been a disaster. Just like that.

And I am not saying it alone. We have discussed it among colleagues in the area and … ALL the same.
Especially those who have rural houses for rooms, we are the ones who give more work and less margin we have.

In my case, in the 20 years that I have been in charge of Mas Torrencito, I have never experienced such a bad July.

👉 Almost 50% of the bookings have been for one night only.
Yes, ONE.
Which means:

• More sheets
• More towels
• More thorough cleaning
• More cost
• And to top it all off, having to put in bids… and say thank you.

😩 And the loyal customers? Even they are suffering…

This weekend we had 5 repeat customers. The usual ones.
And what happened?

• The one who used to come 5 nights… now 4.
• The 4… now 3.
• The 3… now 2.

And it’s not because they like us worse.
They just can’t do it anymore.
They can’t make it.
And what used to be a disconnection getaway, now becomes a “we do what we can”.

🧱 And meanwhile, the system squeezes us to suffocation.

We pay more than 70% of what we earn in taxes:
IRPF, self-employed fees, VAT, waste disposal fees, inspections, water charges, air and holy spirit fees…

And while you are crunching numbers,
💥 the electricity bill arrives,
💥 they raise your gas bill,
💥 and the IRS sends you a “friendly” letter to remind you that if you miss a day in filing the 303, they will crunch you.

And you think:

“But didn’t we have enough of being robbed by the Bourbons?”

Well, no. Now also the top of the government.
And you, paying your taxes and VATs, and watching how those at the top distribute envelopes, per diems, bribes, commissions, briefcases and black cards.

💬 As they say out there:

“From Aznar’s wedding only the dolls of the cake are still to be charged…”

And you putting washing machines.
With two balls.

🔪 What about HUTs? The ultimate dagger

Because if fiscal pressure and institutional hypocrisy already had us on the ropes…
They arrived.
The Tourist Housing.
The HUTs.

Apartments with zero regulation.
Zero taxes.
Zero inspections.
Zero soul.
But with swimming pool and QR code to enter without seeing anyone.

And of course… who wouldn’t prefer to pay less for a bed without human treatment and without rules?
Who is going to choose a rural house where the dogs run free, the breakfast is homemade and you are received with love… when for 40€ less you have an apartment with a view of the parking lot?

They are killing us. They are killing us. And nobody does anything.

⚖️ And the SMI? Of course, it has to be raised… BUT…

Does no one in government really consider that raising the minimum wage WITHOUT reducing the tax burden makes it unfeasible to hire anyone?

Large companies can.
But how many SMEs and freelancers do you know who have closed their business to leave as salaried employees?
And you know what they all say?

“It was the best decision of my life. Fuck them. I now have my salary, my vacations, and no VAT, no income tax or anything else…”

And of course it is. Because this is unsustainable.

🐾 In the meantime… we are here to stay.

With the doors open.
With the field full of happy dogs.
With our usual customers, shortening stays but coming with love.
With the heart in a fist and the current account trembling.

But there will come a day when we will say:

💭 “Either change things… or we do some thinking.”

And it will not be an outburst.
It will be an act of survival.
Because dreams also die, when you bury them in taxes, injustices and institutional abandonment.

🙏 Thanks to those of you who keep coming back.

To those of you who bet for the real.
For the human.
For the rural.
For the doggy
For For……

Reflection

💣 “The future ahead: between loose bitches and tied hands.”

For years we were told the story that being self-employed was to be free.
Free from schedules, free from bosses, free from depending on anyone…
Bullshit.
Today, the self-employed is the new slave of the system.
A system that demands everything from you and gives you nothing back.

We were promised that with effort we would go far.
But in this modern jungle, effort without cronies, without privileges and without cheating is not worth shit.

Those of us who work with soul, those of us who do not cheat, those of us who bet on closeness, sustainability, legality and honesty…
we are becoming lonely.
Lonely, squeezed, unprotected.

The future?
It is the soulless Airbnb.
It is the faceless tourism.
It is the customer who seeks price, not experience.
It is the Spain emptied not of people, but of values.
It is the self-employed who leave everything because they prefer to collect 1.400€ than to live with ulcers because of the Treasury.

And meanwhile, those at the top -the usual ones- handing out envelopes, lifetime salaries, armored pensions and other people’s embarrassments that are no longer disguised.
The same people who talk about entrepreneurs with their mouths full… and their hand in your pocket.

If there is no real change -deep, urgent and courageous-, this country will be a wasteland of stolen opportunities.
A graveyard of illusions where only opaque businesses, legal scams and those who know how to dance the tango of bribery and “I don’t get caught” flourish.

Maybe there will come a day when you look at your empty rural house, the dogs asleep on the sofas, the silence in the dining room…
and think:

“We gave everything. But they didn’t let us live.”

And that, dear friends, is not a failure. It is a historic swindle.

From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!

—
If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price… go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito… Click here … https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada And I wonder… what’s going on? se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.

MANUEL LUQUE from the Colon, from the 80’s, SAID IT AS IT WAS IN THE 80’s…. Search, compare and if you find something better…. BOOK ITOOOOOOOOOOO

I DON’T SEE IT. I really don’t.

🎯 Try it out for yourself.

👉 Go to mastorrencito.com and search for a week in July, for example from the 7th to the 13th. There is still availability. Price: XXXX euritos. A whole week.

Now open another tab, you go to booking.com. Me being Genius 3 and all… with super discounts and blah blah… and you know what?

💸 OVER 200 EUROS DIFFERENCE. Yes, yes, 2️⃣0️⃣ 0️⃣ € less on my website.

And now I will explain why:

1. I raise the price on Booking for two reasons:
   • Because I don’t want you to book that way.
   • Because they charge me a 17% commission (and on top of that I don’t get a tax deduction 😤). So I have to raise the price by 27% or more… otherwise I’ll be ruined!

🔺OF COURSE IT SEEMS EXPENSIVE ON BOOKING OR EXPEDIA! 🔺
CLAROOOOOOOOO! But if you compare it with my website, well… you’re in for a shock.

And then the typical sentence:

“Oh, I just didn’t know… I was afraid of running out of room…”

😮‍💨 BUT THERE ARE MORE THAN TWO MONTHS LEFT! In some cases up to 6 months before the reservation is already made.
It annoys me, of course… but I can’t go calling all of you who book through Booking to tell you: “Hey, it’s MUCH cheaper through my web…”.

Sometimes I have done it, I confess. Once, some foreigners booked 15 days for three people through Booking. I wrote to them and said:

👉 “If you want, cancel and book through my website. It’s cheaper and I’ll include free breakfasts.”

💡 NOTE: I was not lowering the price by one euro. Same conditions, same room, only cheaper through my website. Just like that Trivago ad that keeps coming up…

And you know what they did?

📢 I WAS REPORTED TO BOOKING 😐

Yes, as you read it.

Karma is wise… because that reservation was non-refundable, paid in advance…
And just a week before coming… I don’t know what happened to them, but they asked to cancel it free of charge.

And what do you think I did? 😏

👉 I’ll tell you tomorrow…

Reflection

Yes, come on… I admit it: Booking is a useful tool.
For an impromptu trip, an express getaway, a night out… it’s great.
It gives you quick options, locates you on the map, shows you photos, ratings, filters for whatever… it’s good!

🔎 It can serve as a guide, even as a showcase.

But be careful… that does not mean that you have to book blindly there.
Because many times, it is NOT the cheapest option. Not by far.

👉 Use Booking to look, compare, discover… but when you find something that fits you, look for it also on the accommodation’s website.

📉 Many times you get a surprise:
The same place, the same room, the same dates… and 100, 200 euros less.
And why? Because Booking charges high commissions, and many accommodations are forced to raise the price there in order not to lose money.

⚠️ So it’s not about hating Booking. No.
It’s about being smart. It’s about comparison shopping. About supporting the small business directly if you can. It’s about thinking outside the box.

Because sometimes, for not giving two clicks more, you end up overpaying…
And then, of course, come the regrets:

“Oh, I didn’t know…”
“I was just afraid of running out of room…”

🎯 Well, Booking yes… but with head.
It is not always the best option. Sometimes it is only the first step. Not the last.

From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!

—
If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price… go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito… Click here … https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada 🤯 I don’t know if I’m dumb… or VERY dumb. se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.

Yesterday, while I was talking to a friend from Salamanca – you know, those who tell you they’re not fachas but who have a nostalgia for the unique command and the mandatory military service – he uttered one of those phrases that would make even you, Manuela, raise your eyebrows (if bitches would raise their eyebrows):

“Well, Miguel, but… Franco created the swamps . What has the PSOE done apart from stealing?”

I, who already know the percale, took a deep breath, looked at the sky as if you were there, Manuela, lying in the sun among jasmines, and I answered him with all the calm in the world:

“For now, dear… not to kill.”

🦴 Does this sound familiar, Manuela?

It’s as if instead of caressing you they kicked you, but then they say:

“Man, but I put you a new bowl. Something is something!”

🧱 Why do dictators do big and ugly things, Manuela?

Look, beautiful, this has been happening forever. All those humans with little empathy, but with a lot of desire to rule, when they come to power after killing, imprisoning or silencing their own compatriots, they need to leave something “nice” to cover up the evil they did.

So they start building. giant absurd Monumental
Not because they want to improve anyone’s life. But because they want the people to look up and not back.

📚 Lesson number 1: Franco did not invent swamps

Before Franco had a moustache, there were swamps in Spain.

• In the 1st century AD , the Romans already built Cornalvo and Proserpina in Badajoz.
• In 1594 , under Felipe II, the Pantano de Tibi in Alicante was finished.
• In 1903 , the Pantano de Foix was built, in the Penedès, when Franco was… yet to be born.
• And in 1935 , under the Second Republic, Ricobayo (Zamora) was finished, before his reign of terror began.

And many others were projected or in the works when he decided to charge the middle of Spain to save it from itself (a contradiction only understandable by those who come in black and white).

🧠 Lesson number 2: Franco inaugurated, but did not design

Yes, during the dictatorship more than 500 swamps were opened.
But they were actually made, from scratch, about 200 or 250 .

The rest came from before. And he put on the medal (literally).
Like that guest who arrives late for dinner, he eats the leftovers, and on top of that he says he cooked.

🗺️ Lesson number 3: In Catalonia we also know how to build without dictators

• The Pantano de Rialb (Lleida), the largest in Catalonia, was created by the Generalitat in 2000 .
• La Llosa del Cavall , in Solsonès, was completed in 1998 .
• The largest reservoir in Spain, La Serena (Badajoz), was finished in the 90s , already in full democracy.

So the swamps did not disappear with Franco, as some seem to believe. What died out was the custom of putting numbers on the concrete.

🏛️ Lesson number 4: All dictators do the same, my daughter

Let’s see if they sound familiar, Manuela:

• Hitler : motorways, Olympic stadiums, plans to rebuild Berlin with a 290 meter dome.
• Mussolini : entire neighborhoods of Rome razed to make fascist avenues.
• Stalin : subways decorated like palaces, canals built with slaves.
• Ceaușescu : the largest building in Europe while the people were starving.
• Saddam Hussein : pharaonic palaces with his number engraved in stone, as if he were the Messiah of the desert.
• Kim Jong-il : statues, towers, ghost hotels… while his people ate roots.

And what did they all have in common?
👉 That they killed, repressed, banned …
👉 And then they built so that they will be remembered for the marble and not for the fear.

🐶 And you, Manuela, you didn’t need swamps to be happy…

…just a shady corner, a bit of ham and lots of love.
Can you imagine yourself saying: “Okay, they abandoned me, but at least they put a statue of me”?
Well, they do the same thing with Franco.

It is the complex dictator syndrome:
As they are not going to love them, they want to be remembered.
As they have no soul, they put concrete.
Since they don’t have a town, they make temples.

📣 Final bark:

Don’t be fooled, Manuela. Don’t let us be deceived.

Franco didn’t make the swamps.
I was silent. I was afraid I killed
And then he put plates to hide.

And if someone asks “what has the PSOE done apart from stealing” , you can answer it yourself from your corner of the garden:

“Not killing is enough. Not shooting at dawn.”
Don’t build mausoleums with slaves. Don’t put your face in a trap.
And, above all, not having to justify a crime with a concrete gate.” 🐾

From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs accompany you!!!!

—–
If you want, you can see our weekend bonuses, retired bonuses , at an incredible price.. go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito… Click here… https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada 🐾 “Manuela, honey… Franco didn’t make the swamps” se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.

I’m Miguel. And this story starts with shit. Literally. The good kind, accumulated over the years, the kind that sticks to the boots and to the soul. Because Mastorrencito, you know, has its rural charm and its weight in history, but it also keeps secrets under dust, mud and oblivion. What I didn’t know is that, when I finally decided to clean out the barn, I was going to unearth something that would change everything.

Mastorrencito has the main house, of course. That’s where we live. But he also has two outbuildings that have always intrigued me: the barn, and that other kind of giant hut, with an architecture that gives a thousand turns to any magazine chalet. With its central column, majestic, in the middle of nowhere, as if to say: “I endured wars, storms and oblivion. What about you?”

Since I arrived here, many years ago, I always wanted to reform them. But renovation costs money. And here, between roof repairs, dogs, life itself… money always goes where it’s tightest. I calculate about 80,000 euros per space. So I left them. And they, like everything that is left behind, began to rot. Broken windows, damp to the marrow, beams eaten away by time. But that column was still there, planted like a sentinel.

Until one day, not long ago, I said: enough. If I can’t reform them, at least I’m going to empty them. Clean them. Take out everything that was left over. Because it was already embarrassing. A giant storage room of things I didn’t even know I had. And besides, every time I walked past it, I felt a kind of tug, as if the place was asking me to look at it again.

I set up a crew. Good kids. One of them, Javi, told me that his grandfather had worked in Mastorrencito during the postwar period. That he had once heard about “strange things” stored in the barn. I laughed at the time. Now it’s not so funny anymore.

We entered the spaces like someone entering an ancient womb, with respect but with brooms, wheelbarrows, gloves and masks. We took out broken sofas, bicycles without wheels, sacks of petrified cement, empty paint cans, an armchair half eaten by rats, an absurd collection of glass jars with colored liquids that I didn’t even dare to open. We sorted as in a ritual: this is pure garbage, to the container; this I have no idea, intermediate pile; this can be sold, for my gypsies.

While they came and went to the junk shop, I was rummaging through the objects I didn’t understand. A couple of times, Masto wandered into the piles, sniffing curiously. Mamas barked as if to say “watch out!”, while Maqui and Mato played chase each other through the rubble. Their energy gave me a little hope. As if they, with their instinct, knew something was uncovering.

We found, among broken boxes and boards, an oil portrait. Covered with dust. We cleaned it carefully. It was the face of a serious man, with piercing eyes, an old medal on his lapel and a background I recognized immediately: the facade of Mastorrencito, but with a shield that is no longer there. I left it leaning against the wall. I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t even know who he was. But his gaze, I swear to God, seemed to follow me.

The first construction we emptied was that of the column. Little by little, the floor became visible. And then it happened. After sweeping for hours, and removing layers of hardened soil, we saw tiles appear. Not just any tiles. They were terracotta, like those in the main house, but many had a mark that left us frozen: four bars and a date.

I knelt down. I ran my hand over one of them. It was perfectly preserved. The red clay had a shine that seemed impossible after so many years hidden. It was as if time had passed over them without daring to touch them. As if something, or someone, had protected them.

That night, I didn’t sleep well. I kept thinking. 1714. Not just any year. The War of Succession. The fall of Barcelona. A before and after in the history of Catalonia. Why were those tiles there, hidden, as if waiting to be discovered? Who put them there? Why?

The next morning, I went back to the barn with the dogs. Mastitwo was ahead of me, as usual. Mamas was beside me, serious. Maqui and Mato, playing at biting each other’s ears. We entered the building. The light came in through the high windows and the dust floated like in an old movie. There were the tiles, shining as if they wanted to tell me something.

And they did.

Right in the center of the floor, under the column, was a slightly more sunken tile. I bent down. I touched the edges. It was loose.

I lifted it.

Underneath there was no earth. There was a hole. A square of about 60 by 60 centimeters, perfectly delimited by old bricks. Inside, a box. Black wood, old, with rusted but intact hardware. It weighed little. I took it out carefully. The dogs approached, restless. Mamas growled. Maqui stood still, her gaze fixed. Even Mato sat down, which was rare for him.

I didn’t open it. Not yet. I sat with the box on my legs, heart pumping hard. I felt that what was inside wasn’t just old. It was important. Like I’d been waiting for that moment for centuries.

Chapter 2: The box

The box weighed less than it looked. It had that texture of old wood that almost creaks under your fingers when you touch it, as if protesting at being disturbed. I sat on a block of stone while the dogs clustered around me, expectant.

With the small knife I always carry in my pocket, I carefully forced the latch. The metallic creak echoed throughout the barn like a dry gunshot. Masto gasped. Maqui jumped and took two steps away, but stood watching. I opened the lid slowly, as if I were unearthing an ancient promise.

Inside, the first thing I saw was a package wrapped in cloth. Thick, gray cloth, with frayed embroidery. I unwrapped it and a book appeared. Small, dark leather, no title in sight. I opened it.

It was a diary.

The first page was handwritten, in faded ink, in old Catalan, beautiful and somewhat difficult to understand. “Per a qui trobi aquesta caixa…” it read. From there began the story of one Bernat Jorba, dated 1713. Soldier. Refugee. Hidden in Mastorrencito.

I could not believe it. The diary spoke of the war, of how they hid in houses scattered around the area, of a network of messengers and of an object they had to protect at all costs. “El cor de la terra”, it called it. He never explained what it was, but he did explain where it was: under the column.

I looked up at the column. I stood up. So did the dogs. It was as if they knew. As if all those years hanging around had been part of something bigger.

I went back to the hole. I took a closer look. In one corner, almost fused with the bricks, was a carved symbol. Four bars. Above it, a small keyhole.

The box had a double lid. Underneath the diary, a small rusty key rested wrapped in a red ribbon.

I took it. It fit.

I turned.

The ground shook. Not like an earthquake. As if something, inside the earth, responded to that key.

The dogs started barking all at once. Mamas, especially, started scratching at the floor near the column as if she knew exactly where. The brick creaked. An entire slab began to move.

And then I knew that what I had discovered was not just a diary. Nor a box. It was an entrance. To something much bigger.

But that… that I’m still not sure if I should have opened it.

Chapter 3: The passageway

The slab shifted with a thud, as if someone was pushing it from the inside. The dust that rose was thick, almost untouchable, as if it hadn’t moved in centuries. I froze for a few seconds. Masto was barking insistently. Mamas growled low, with that tension she only brings out when something really doesn’t sit right. Maqui and Mato stood behind me, restless, but not moving.

Under the slab, a dark hole. It was not very deep, barely a meter, but deep enough to reveal a stone floor and, beyond it, a tunnel that was lost in the blackness. It didn’t smell musty. It smelled… closed. Of frozen time. Of old earth.

I looked for a flashlight. I had to run up to the house. I grabbed a headlamp, a small handheld one, and went down with a rope just in case. The dogs were waiting for me right where I had left them. No one had moved. Not a hair.

-Shall we go in or what? -I said, more out of fear than courage.

I unhooked the rope and let myself fall. As I touched the ground, I felt the coolness. It was a different climate down there. I crouched down so as not to hit my head. The passageway was no more than five feet high. It started in polished stone, like a small Roman vault, and continued, little by little, transforming into something more rustic, with walls of compacted earth.

I moved forward. Slowly. I didn’t want the dogs to come down yet. Every step was a crunch. The air was charged with something ancient. Not fear exactly. But yes… memory.

About ten meters ahead, the tunnel turned slightly. And there I saw it.

One door. Iron. Reinforced. With a symbol engraved in the center: the four bars. This time, crossed by a horizontal line that I had not seen before.

TO BE CONTINUED………..
_______

From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!

—
If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price… go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito… Click here … https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada What the barn was hiding… (2 and 3) by MasTorrencito se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.

Ayyy, what would I be without you, my love… Every year you give me a new experience. 2024 has been no different. In fact, it has been beautiful: one more year without inspection, and I already feel like I live in a garden without flowers 🌼… without colors … without soul … but with bills. Always with invoices. And don’t get the wrong idea… the P doesn’t stand for PUTA, it stands for PESADILLA.

Treasury or by making thieves?

Because, of course, who needs peace of mind when you can have 85 VAT rates to play accounting Tetris? 🤯
This year we have collected:
0️⃣ , 2️⃣, 4️⃣, 5️⃣, 5-0.25 (what is that, a Lidl VAT-free Day promotion?), 7,5️⃣, 🔟, and the inevitable 2️⃣1️⃣ .
I just need a sticker album to glue them all together! 📚

And of course, then comes the tax reality:
📌 “You can’t deduct the whole car because you also use it to get bread.”
📌 “Light doesn’t count because it lights up your face, and that’s not economic activity (at the moment).”
📌 “Gas, water, wifi… watch out, that’s enjoyed by your dog too, and Hacienda doesn’t deduct pets.” 🐶💧⚡

Meanwhile, those who do have the resources to work magic with their money (cof cof cof, the big companies), have advisors, prosecutors, consultants, evasion experts who could hack NASA if they were asked… and those, curiously, nobody bothers them.

But the little ones… you always have us in your sights 🔍
We are like that student who does study but still gets caught copying… because of course, you have to make quotas, and it is easier to annoy those who have nothing to defend themselves with.

Yes:
📆 I work 18 hours a day.
👷‍♂️ I have two employees to whom I pay their social security, income tax, withholdings, and I even buy them a coffee from time to time.
💼 I am self-employed.
📉 And it turns out that, when we retire, they will almost certainly collect more pension than I do.

And I have yet to hear that being your own boss is “freedom”… Freedom, yes. To screw yourself in style. 🕊️💥

📣 Dear Treasury,
Do you really think it is wrong that a rural house that bills at 10% and buys at 21% is entitled to have the difference refunded?
Is it so complex?
Do you think it is so suspicious that we simply want to deduct what is due without you treating us as if we were putting drugs in the fruit boxes? 🍌🚓

We want to work. Not survive by juggling regulations that even you don’t understand.

So, thanks for another year of strong emotions, regulatory contradictions and early mornings to balance an Excel with more VAT than logic.

I love you. But from far away. Very far away.
Almost as far as the retirement I will have left after all this. 🥲📉

From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!

—
If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price… go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito… Click here … https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada Treasury… blessed are you among all the p… prosecutors 😇💸 se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.

🐾 Told by Manuela, furry founder and eternal soul of Mastorrencito

Hello.
I’m Manuela The Golden Retriever.
Yes, that blonde who started it all. The one who first stole, the one who first lay down in the sun on Mastorrencito’s porch and thought:
“Here, yes. Here you can be happy.”

Today I’m talking to you from another place. A quiet one, full of shade and soft grass, where the good dogs rest. Here I am with Markos, Max, Macarena, Mastín Tirurí and Mato.
And between game and game, sometimes we look out to see what’s going on down there, where our legacy is.

The other day I dreamed something horrible. I dreamed that we were not there .
Not me, not Masto, not Mastín TIRURI, not Maky, not Mamas, not Mastitwo.
Neither us, nor the friends who come with their families, nor those who stay a few days, nor those who repeat summer after summer.

And what came… I can’t get it out of my head.

Mastorrencito was still there, yes.
The trees, the field, the wind.
Everything in its place.
But it was empty.
Like a house in which the lights have been turned off inside.

No barking was heard.
There were no races or games.
The drinking fountains were clean, yes… but full.
The beds are made.
New balls, without a single bite.

And humans… misplaced.
One of the caretakers sat on a stone with a ball in his hand. He stayed looking at her, still. Like waiting for someone to come and take it away. But no one came.

There was no movement.
There was no joy.
Only routines. Only silence.

Without us, Mastorrencito was not Mastorrencito.

It was just another rural house.
Pretty, yes. Correct.
But without a soul.

Because the soul is us.

We welcome you, set the pace of the day, turn the corridors into highways of happiness, fill the corners with life (and with hair, okay, also with hair 🐾 ).

And then I understood:

We are not an addition.
We are not an extra service.
We are the heart.

Here comes lo hablamos many times.
Markos says that without him, no one jokingly fights over a branch.
Macarena says that the cushions on the sofa are too tidy.
Max says that without his snoring naps, the silence is annoying.
Mato only wants a ball, but he also misses the hustle.

And I…
I think of Masto, Maky, Mamas, Mastitwo.
Those who are still down there.
Those who now hold that place.
And I’m glad they are.

Because without them, it wouldn’t be a home.
It would just be a nice place.
And that’s not enough.

Therefore, if you are reading this, and you are lucky enough to be there with one of them, or to spend a few days with your dog in Mastorrencito…
Look at it.
Caress it even though it’s muddy.
Let her get on the couch if she wants to.
Hold the barking.
And smile when you find hairs on your clothes.
Because that means we are .
And while we are, everything still makes sense.

With love, forever,
Manuela
Golden, founder, pampering boss, and invisible guardian of that place we call home 🐶 ❤️

REFLECTION

What if we lived without hair… or dogs?

The house would be clean.
The impeccable sofas.
The carpets without footprints.
And the car, finally, without that coat of hair that looks like part of the upholstery.

Yes, everything would be fine.
But the essential would be missing.

No one would run out to greet you as if you were returning from a war, even if you only went to get bread.
No one would fall at your feet without asking for anything.
No one would look at you as if you were, literally, their whole world .

Without dogs, we would have more time…
but fewer reasons to leave the house.
More space…
but less desire to fill it.
More silence…
but less comfort.

Without those hairs that stick to your clothes, there would be no trace of anyone who accompanies you unconditionally.
Without that lament behind the door, there would be no one to notice when you are sad.
Without that four-legged companion, routine would be just that: routine. Without pauses, without surprises, without that silly joy of seeing a queue move.

We can vacuum the house.
We can remove the hair from our clothes.
But we should not aspire to a life without them.

Because living without hair is possible.
But living without dogs…
it’s something else.

A cleaner one, yes.
But also emptier.

From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs accompany you!!!!

—–
If you want, you can see our weekend bonuses, retired bonuses , at an incredible price.. go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito… Click here… https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada “If we weren’t…” se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.

I ask for dates. I look.
Yes, there is room.

– And what is the price?
– 140€ per night, plus breakfast ☕🍞
– And how much do the dogs pay?
– 6€/dog/day 🐶
– Wow, very expensive!
– Well… that’s what we charge 🤷‍♂️
– So if I go for 10 days… how much does it cost?
– Well… 140 x 10 = 1.400€, plus breakfasts, plus the dogs.
– Man… you have to have breakfast…
– Then it will cost you about XXXX€ total.
– TRUTHFULLY! I think it’s very expensive for what they offer.
– Ma’am, I am not going to argue with you. Those are the prices.
– And it can’t be cheaper?
– Yes, of course.
– I thought so!
– Taking a cheaper room… or coming for fewer days.
– Man! That’s not cheaper, that’s less money.
– Well… but it costs less, right?
– I’ve seen…
– Yes?
– I’ve seen cheaper places!
– Well, no problem, ma’am, book at those places. No problem.
– Yeah, but my daughter…
– I don’t know, ma’am… you can do it yourself.
– Yeah… but it just seems so expensive for what it is…
– Don’t worry, there are plenty of other places. Call anyone.
– Yeah… but my daughter…
– I understand.
– I certainly wouldn’t pay that. Especially not there.
– Well, nothing, madam. I wish you luck and may you find what you are looking for.
– Ya…
– Good afternoon.

Several hours later… 📞
The phone rings.
Ella again.

– Good afternoon, it’s me.
– Hello… ME.
– Look, I’ve been asking other places… and yes, they are cheaper.
– That’s great! Lucky you. And…?
– Well, I wanted to let you know.
– I think it’s great. I hope you enjoy it.
– Yeah… but there is a problem.
– What?
– The dogs.
– What about the dogs?
– They only let me take the little one, the poodle 🐩
– And how many do you have?
– I have the poodle, my daughter two Golden and a Labrador. 🐶🐶🐶
– Ah!
– And they can not be loose, neither in common areas, nor in the pool.
– AHHHHH!
– So I will have no choice but to book with you…
– No, ma’am, do not worry. Search! There are plenty of places. Rural as mushrooms 🍄
– Yeah, but I don’t want to do my own thing…
– AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
– And you don’t know of any others?
– Look, I’ll give you the association’s phone number. Call, leave them the data, and if someone has something, they will contact you.
– Ahhh yes… How kind you are!
– Note 📞

Next day. 9:00 a.m.
– Hello, it’s me.
– HELLO ME.
– Nobody called me…
– Ma’am, you called at 9 o’clock in the evening. Give them time…
– Okay, okay… I’ll tell you something.
– No, don’t tell me anything. Tell your daughter.
CHAO. 👋

That same afternoon. 20:00. The phone rings… 📱
– Hi, it’s ME.
– Hello ME.
– No, we don’t have what we want. So I book with you.
– Well… it’s not going to happen. It’s already booked.
– HOW??? BUT HOW CAN IT BE????
– Well, they booked this morning on the web 💻
– And now what shall I tell my daughter?
– Honestly…
– Yes…
– No idea.
– She just wanted to come here.
– But there’s no more room for her. 😅

Ten more minutes of conversation: that if so and so, that if so and so, that if the daughter is going to be angry, that if there is no room…

I tell her that I’m sorry, that everything is full. But if she leaves me the data, if someone cancels, I call her.
And that’s it.

The next morning… daughter calls.
– Hi. Look, my mother told me…
And it’s mostly true… except for most of the details. 🙄

Then I tell him my version.
And he says:
– AHHHH MY MOTHER!
– Yeah… that’s what mothers are like. 😅
– But mine…
– AY si te contara yo de Marichón…
– So, no room?
– The only thing I have left is one on the top floor, without elevator. And with three dogs, I’d better get one with a terrace.
– Well, yes… the truth. I kill my mother!
– Don’t worry, if someone cancels, I’ll let you know.
– But can you reserve that one for me for now? And if the other one is released, you change me.
– Done. But know about the stairs.
– She is agile.
– OK.
– A thousand thanks… and sorry for my mother 🙏s… What if the daughter gets angry, what if I can’t make room for her, what if I can’t make room for her, what if I can’t…

Reflection: Expensive, cheap and the value of things

Some people are not looking for a place to stay. They are looking for a price battle. They don’t want to enjoy, they want to bargain. They don’t value cleanliness, attention, tranquility, or that someone makes their bed or prepares their breakfast with care. They want all that, yes… but for free, or almost for free.

They say it is expensive, without stopping to think how much it costs to maintain a well-kept place, with staff, with rules, with respect for animals and humans. They want everything: the biggest room, the terrace, the perfect breakfast, that you accept their four dogs, that they don’t bark, that they don’t bother you, that there is a microwave, and that they like you.

And when you tell them what it’s worth, they compare it to something that has nothing to do with it. As if booking on Booking an apartment with no sheets, no attention, no common area, and absurd rules were the same thing. As if the price was everything.

But there is something they often forget: value is not what it costs. It’s what you get.
And what you don’t value in time, someone else reserves. And then there is nothing but complaining, moaning and “it’s me” calls in the background.

It’s not that there’s no room.
It’s that there’s no room for all that they don’t want to pay for, but they do want to demand.
And no, it’s not expensive. It’s fair.
What’s expensive is having to explain yourself every time you do your job well.

______
From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!

—
If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price… go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito… Click here … https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada Those prices… se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.

Y ahí vuelve la típica frase:
“Yo prefiero a los perros antes que a los niños.”

¿La habéis oído? Seguro que sí. ¿Y sabéis qué? Depende.

Porque no se trata de perros o de niños. Se trata de educación. De cómo se crían, cómo se les guía, cómo se les enseña a estar en el mundo. Lo que marca la diferencia no es si el que entra por la puerta tiene dos patas o cuatro. Lo que importa es cómo se comporta. Y, sobre todo, qué tipo de adulto hay detrás.

Cuando suena el “timbre”: tensión en Mastorrencito

Aquí, en Mastorrencito, cada llegada de un nuevo perro se vive con una mezcla de ilusión… y tensión.
Nos lo seguimos preguntando siempre:

• ¿Se llevará bien con los nuestros?
• ¿Será juguetón o dominante?
• ¿Qué raza es?
• ¿Qué tamaño tiene?
• ¿Está castrado?
• ¿Ha socializado antes?
• ¿Y los dueños? ¿Serán responsables? ¿Estarán pendientes? ¿O se limitarán a soltarlo y desaparecer?

Porque, seamos claros, el problema casi nunca es el perro.
Lo que realmente marca la diferencia es cómo lo han criado, cómo lo cuidan, cómo lo entienden sus dueños.

Y claro, cuando ya has vivido unas cuantas situaciones complicadas, el cuerpo se te pone en alerta. Porque cuando un perro se adapta bien, juega, respeta a los demás y sigue a su humano, todo va sobre ruedas. Pero cuando no… el estrés es real. Y no porque el perro “sea malo”, sino porque nadie le ha enseñado cómo comportarse en un entorno compartido.

Y con los niños pasa exactamente lo mismo. Nos encantan los peques, pero los que vienen bien educados, que saben estar, que entienden que están en una casa que no es la suya. Porque cuando llegan niños que gritan, lo tocan todo, lo rompen o lo desordenan… y los padres ni se inmutan… la convivencia se vuelve muy cuesta arriba.

Los buenos ejemplos que nos dan esperanza

Por suerte, también tenemos historias que nos devuelven la fe en el mundo.

Hay una familia que viene cada año a pasar un fin de semana. No tienen perro, pero sí tres hijos. Les encanta venir porque pueden jugar con nuestros perretes, bañarse con ellos, pasar tiempo juntos. Una vez incluso dejaron que uno de los niños durmiera con uno de los perros. Si vierais sus caras… pura felicidad.

Pero lo más bonito es lo educados que son.
Piden permiso para todo:
“¿Puedo coger el parchís?”
Y al acabar, lo recogen todo. No hay que decirles nada. En la mesa, se sientan, comen con sus padres, no se levantan, no arman jaleo, no ensucian.

Y esto no es casualidad. Es el resultado de padres que han hecho su trabajo. Que están presentes. Que han enseñado desde pequeños.

También tenemos familias que vienen con niños y perros. Y el resultado es igual de positivo: niños respetuosos, atentos, perros tranquilos, educados, que se adaptan sin problema. Porque la educación se nota, se transmite, se respira.

Y también hay de lo otro…

Claro que sí. También hay quienes llegan y, en cuestión de minutos, la casa parece un caos.

Niños que gritan, corren, lo tocan todo, tiran cosas. Y los padres, tan tranquilos. Como si no fuera con ellos. Como si educar fuera opcional.
Y muchas veces, el perro que traen es un cielo. Buenísimo. Calmado. Y da la impresión de que lo ha educado alguien que sí se implicó.

Y ahí está el contraste. Porque no es que los niños o los perros sean un problema por sí solos. El problema aparece cuando los adultos no asumen su responsabilidad.

¿Qué queremos decir con todo esto?

Que educar bien es querer bien. Y que es igual de necesario con los niños que con los perros.

Porque ambos dependen de nosotros. Aprenden de lo que ven. Necesitan guía, estructura, atención, rutinas, normas. No basta con quererlos mucho. Hay que dedicarles tiempo. Hay que estar ahí. Hay que enseñarles a respetar, a convivir, a estar en el mundo.

No sirve eso de:
— “Es solo un niño.”
— “Es solo un perro.”

No.
Un niño sin límites puede hacer que cualquier espacio se vuelva inaguantable.
Un perro sin normas puede estresar a todos los que le rodean.
Pero también ocurre lo contrario:
Un niño bien educado alegra cualquier lugar.
Un perro equilibrado y respetuoso hace que todo fluya.

En resumen…

No se trata de elegir entre niños o perros. Se trata de educar.

Y cuando hay buena educación, da igual con quién vengas. Aquí, en Mastorrencito, siempre serás bienvenido.

Así que la próxima vez que alguien diga “yo prefiero a los perros” o “no aguanto a los niños”, pensad en esto:
No es cuestión de especie. Es cuestión de valores. De responsabilidad. De cómo cuidamos y guiamos a quienes dependen de nosotros.

Porque al final, educar es amar. Y amar bien, también es educar bien.

Reflexíon:

Perro bien educado. Hijo bien educado. 100% asegurado.

Porque no hay truco ni secreto: lo que se ve en un perro tranquilo, respetuoso y feliz… suele venir de un humano que se ha implicado.
Y lo mismo pasa con los niños.

Educar bien no es solo corregir. Es estar, guiar, marcar límites con cariño, enseñar a convivir.
Cuando ves a un niño que respeta, que cuida, que pregunta antes de tocar, sabes que hay una familia detrás que ha sembrado bien.
Y cuando ves a un perro que se adapta, que no invade, que sabe estar… lo mismo.

No se trata de suerte.
Se trata de compromiso.

Al final, tanto los hijos como los perros son reflejo de quien los guía.
Y cuando la educación es buena, todo fluye. Siempre.

Desde MasTorrencito te deseamos un buen día y que tus perros te acompañen!!!!

—–
Si quieres, puede ver nuestros bonos para fines de semana, bonos jubilados , a un precio increíble.. entra en www.mastorrencito.com o si quieres podéis leer más historia y anécdotas que nos han pasado en MasTorrencito… Clickea aqui… https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada Educar es querer bien: una reflexión sobre niños, perros… y adultos responsables se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.

Yesterday without going any further, a Belgian couple. They were bringing a huge golden retriever -I think the biggest I have ever seen-. They were on a trip, they stopped here. The dog gets out of the car and almost knocks the owner to the ground. But they didn’t let him out, even though at that moment there wasn’t a single other dog, and there was no way for him to escape. I tell them to calm down, to let him go, that nothing is happening… and they say no. Well, it’s their dog, ok.

We continued to the house and again, the woman almost fell in. The dog had seen the pool and was crazy to run. I tell them again to let him loose, to relax, to enjoy themselves. They look at me as if to say “if anything happens, it will be your fault”. Anyway. They let him go… and the dog transforms. It shoots out onto the lawn, rolls around, runs like crazy, goes straight to the pool, gets in, gets out, gets back in, shakes itself right in front of us -even though there are seven hectares of garden, of course-. We laugh. I give them one of the magic towels we have (the kind that dries in two seconds) and the dog is happy. They, suddenly, too.

I show them the bar, the room… and after a while, from the kitchen, while I was ironing -yes, me ironing, hahaha-, I see them downstairs, having a bottle of wine, the dog lying next to them, loose, calm. I go downstairs and ask them how they are doing. And they tell me: PARADISE.

REFLECTION by MasTorrencito

A curious thing happens at Mastorrencito: people arrive tense and leave smiling. Sometimes all it takes is to let go of the leash for everything to change.

Many arrive with fear. Dogs they don’t know well, who have never run free, and humans who carry that anxiety as if it were part of the luggage. You see them grabbing the leash as if there were a beast on the other side, when in reality there is a soul waiting to run, to jump, to get wet, to live.

And when he is finally released… the magic happens. The dog runs happily, rolls around, jumps into the pool without asking permission. And the humans, at first in shock, end up laughing, relaxing, going down to the garden with a glass of wine, looking at him as if they didn’t know they had such a happy dog.

That’s Mastorrencito. It’s not just a place. It is an invitation: to trust, to let go, to enjoy. To understand that living with a dog is not about controlling everything, but about sharing moments that are truly worthwhile.

And if it shakes in front of you and gets you all wet… well, that’s part of paradise too.

From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!

—
If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price… go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito… Click here … https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada Letting go to enjoy by Mastorrencito se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.

I know, I have already badmouthed Booking.com before… and I will continue to do so. Because even though I hate to admit it: I need them. And that’s the worst thing. Because even if it’s not coherent, if you’re not on Booking, you lose bookings. It’s as simple as that. That’s all there is to it.

And we swallow. We swallow abusive commissions. We swallow unequal conditions. We swallow with being squeezed to the last euro, even if you have your own website, without commissions, with cheaper prices, all legal and with their taxes up to date.

Why is that? Purely for convenience.

Because most people prefer not to make even a phone call. Nor enter the accommodation website. Because yes, it’s easier to enter dates in Booking and that’s it. And I get it, I really do, if you’re passing through, in the middle of a route, and you need something quick. Okay, I buy that scenario.

But for your summer vacation? Easter? A long weekend you’ve been planning for weeks? You really can’t take a minute to check if that accommodation has its own website? To call directly if it’s a small place?

Because I’m telling you, as Jesus Christ: 95% of the accommodations have cheaper prices on their website than on Booking. Check it out. Check it out. And if you don’t, at least be aware that you are fattening the pockets of the usual ones… and impoverishing the usual ones.

And note: I understand that big hotels or chains use Booking. They probably have different agreements. Surely they do not pay that 17% commission. But what’s really shocking is that traditional travel agencies -such as El Corte Inglés, yes, I say it with name and surname- also work like this.

Let me give you a real example: a friend of mine who has just retired was given a travel voucher by his colleagues. He called El Corte Inglés to redeem it and asked to come to my accommodation. And what did the agency do? He booked through Booking. They didn’t even call me. Nor did they contact me directly. Nothing.

The result? I receive a Booking reservation for a client who wanted to come because he already knew me. Good thing his name was familiar to me… otherwise I could have had a direct booking and a Booking booking for the same dates, with all the hassle that entails.

This is not efficiency. This is passivity. And in this case, from an agency that should be defending the customer and the local supplier.

Here is some data, so you can see the size of the monster:

Revenues and employees in 2023:

• Booking Holdings: $21.4 billion | 23,600 employees
• Expedia Group: $12.8 billion | 17,100 employees
• Airbnb: $9.92 billion | 6,907 employees

And beware: these are only commissions. Booking’s total turnover exceeds $200,000 million. And where are they taxed? Outside. Of course, there are always better tax havens.

Is it fair?

I will continue to have my website. I will continue to offer the best price there. And I will continue to pay taxes here. But as long as we keep feeding the beast by not filling in four pieces of information or making a call, everything will remain the same.

From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!

—
If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price… go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito… Click here … https://casaruralconperrosgirona.com

La entrada Tiburón Booking.com by MasTorrencito se publicó primero en Casa Rural con Perros Girona.